


A Hundred Beads

by kapakoscheisigma



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Loneliness, Longing, M/M, Self-Hatred, Unrequited Love, rosary beads, self-directed homophobia, very obscure reference to being abused as a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapakoscheisigma/pseuds/kapakoscheisigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why must he chose?</p><p>James Hathaway wants his boss so badly but he hates himself for doing so. It's tagged a pairing, but really, it's all one sided, in James Hathaway's imagination, in his very soul. </p><p>Robert Lewis or God, who is his only true Beloved...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Beads

He took to carrying his rosary in his pocket, when he couldn’t remember. It lay there in his trousers, snug against his thigh with his fags and lighter, another prop some might say, a reminder, a defender against sin, others could see.

Not that it worked.

He couldn’t stop looking. Wishing. Wanting.

Sometimes it was a comfort. A mangled body, a distraught witness or relative. He would put his hand in his pocket, let the comforting feel of the beads slip past his fingers as in his head he would recite the reassuring words as he said a decade or two, privately, secretly, for the victim and their loved ones, for the victim’s soul. That they would find the culprits to bring peace and reconciliation, solace and comfort to the murdered soul and their grieving family and friends. Lewis sometimes would look askance at him, giving him one of those sideways glances of his that would turn James’ insides to water. But Lewis had no idea, he was sure. And he would pull out his fags and light one. He couldn’t pray, anyway, not after Lewis gave him one of those looks, looks that had he want to fall to his knees and beg Lewis to love him back, plead with him to take him to bed right now.

Then he’d have to go home and pray. He started to read the Bible more and more. Selectively. Reminding himself his boss was forbidden from even daydreams. On his knees in his bedroom, weeping, asking God to take away this affliction, to let him be normal. Something he’d not done since a child. In those days the pleading for God’s mercy had more resonance, more immediacy. Now he didn’t sin. He dreamt of sinning. He fantasized about sinning. He wanted to, badly.

Some nights he was so unhappy and torn by guilt and longing in equal measure he would even fall prostrate, lying face down, arms out stretched to make a cross, in imitation of his Lord’s suffering. An act of desperate penance. Sometimes staying like that all night, falling asleep on the floor and waking in the early hours, cold and stiff and sore, but still homosexual and still hopelessly, painfully in love with boss.

Still so alone.

He wanted it all. Sinful sex and pure love, companionship and company. Cuddles. He dreamt of it. He longed for it. Would fantasize about it. Curled up on the sofa his head on a cushion wishing it was Lewis’ thigh. Curl up around his pillow and wish it were Lewis, or sometimes, bundle half his quilt and press it to his back, wish that Lewis were in his bed, curled around him, holding him. Not necessarily après sex cuddles, but sometimes, because sometimes...

Sometimes James fell from grace. From praying it was so easy to open that nice bottle of Merlot or fine Malt he’d been saving and drink and day dream before chastizing himself for those fantasies, drink to forget the dreams, drink to hide from the loneliness. And then, too full of alcohol, alone in his empty flat, fall into bed and give into temptation and masturbate, giving in entirely to his dream, slipping in a couple of fingers inside as he stroked himself to oblivion, entirely alone he came, curling up and weeping because he was so weak and sinful, because it was wicked to want such a perfect man, greedy to want more than Lewis freely gave in friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> A pious one with a hundred beads on your rosary,  
> or a drunkard in a tavern,  
> any gift you bring the Beloved will be accepted  
> as long as you come in longing.  
> It is this most secret pain,  
> this bleeding separation,  
> which will guide you to your Heart of Hearts.
> 
> By Abu-Said Abil-Kheir translated by Vraje Abrahiam


End file.
